


The Not So New Adventures of the Old Phil Coulson

by Saone



Category: New Adventures of Old Christine, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saone/pseuds/Saone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After surviving Loki's attack, Phil Coulson is <s>burned</s> retired and Richard Campbell is forced to return full time to his old life and his ex-wife. If only there was some archery-loving Avenger around to rescue him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Major plot points for the movie  
> Warnings: Not betad, grammarians beware.
> 
>  
> 
> I didn't know I needed this crossover, but I think my life is a little richer for it.   
> Written for [this](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/9218.html?thread=19299586#t19299586) prompt at avengerkink, this fic is a strange combination of crack and angst. Crangst? Also, it's best to not try and make this fit with any timelines.

Richard's been back at his old new life for almost ten months when he gets the unsettling sensation that he's being watched. The skin across the back of his neck prickles, and it takes everything he has to keep his expression placid and his eyes locked on Richie as he runs back and forth across the field.

Logically, Richard's always known that the odds of someone finding him are higher than Fury would have liked to believe, but it would have been nice if it hadn't happened at one of his son's soccer games.

Richard waits a few more minutes, and when the feeling of being watched doesn't go away, he turns slightly in his chair. As he reaches for the water bottle on the ground next to him, his eyes scan the crowd. Most of the people he sees are other parents or family members he recognizes from previous games. No one sticks out. But Phil never used to stick out either.

Then, when he's about to turn back around, Richard spots him. The figure is standing a bit away from the rest of the crowd. His head is turned toward the game, and Richard can't fully make out his features. But it doesn't matter; Richard would know him anywhere.

Clint.

Richard feels his heart lurch painfully. His emotions are a jumble of sadness, and regret, and a tiny bit of elation because it's so good to see him, even from a distance. Even though Richard knows he's going to have to spend the next however many years groveling for Clint's forgiveness.

Richard is about to get up and walk over when Clint's gaze shifts and their eyes meet. The tiny bit of elation is snuffed out completely. Clint looks haggard. And haunted. 

From one blink to the next, Clint has turned and is walking away. Richard is out of his chair and moving before he even realizes it. He can hear Christine, and Barb, and Matthew calling him, but his focus is all on catching up to the man who's swiftly leaving him behind. Richard knows with a horrific certainty that if he loses track of Clint today, he'll never see the younger man again except in pictures.

Richard breaks out into a run. He's not supposed to exert himself that much yet; he's still healing after all. A stitch forms in his side, but he pushes through it.

"Clint," he calls out. "Wait! Please!" 

Clint falters, but he doesn't stop moving.

Richard goes another few steps before a sharp pain in his chest pulls him up short. He gasps and rubs at the ache. Suddenly, strong hands grab his biceps. Clint is there, _right there_ , holding onto him.

"Are you okay?" Clint asks. "Do you need to get to a hospital?"

Richard coughs a bit. "No. I'll be all right. I'm just... I'm not used to that level of activity yet." Richard can tell Clint's going to let go of him, so he reaches out and twists his hand in the light jacket Clint's wearing. "Please don't go. Stay. Please."

"I can't..." Clint grimaces. "This was a mistake. Nat told me not to come. I should have listened. I'm sorry."

"No!" Richard tightens his grip. "Don't ever listen to Natasha. Ever. She gives awful advice."

"Phil, I-"

"Richard?" It's Christine. Of course it's Christine. "Richard, what's going on?"

Clint tries to pull away. Richard holds on with everything he has.

"It's okay," Richard says, turning his head to face his first family. It's just Christine and Matthew, Barb must have stayed at the game with Richie.

"Who's this?" Christine asks. Her eyes are narrowed and her jaw's set. Richard doesn't know if she's reacting to the tension between him and Clint, or if she's just upset that she felt compelled to leave the game to check up on him.

"This is-"

"I'm Aaron," Clint says. "Richard and I used to work together."

Matthew raises an eyebrow. "Work together. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Clint immediately drops his hands from Richard's arms. Richard tugs so hard on Clint's jacket that he thinks he hears a seam rip.

"Guys," Richard says, "can you just..."

Matthew, bless him, nods and tugs at Christine's arm. "Come on. Let's go back to the game."

"What? No."

"Yes. Come on." 

"Matthew, I don't think we should leave-"

"Yes, we should. Come on." Matthew gets a better grip on Christine and practically pulls her back across the field. Richard's grateful, even though he knows there's going to be hell to pay later.

"Aaron?" Richard asks.

"New alias."

Richard feels a sharp pang at what he's missed.

"I think you tore my jacket," Clint says.

"I'll buy you a new one." Richard rubs at the material under his fingers. "If I let go, will you promise not to run?"

"I don't think me staying around is a good idea."

"It is," Richard insists. "It's the best idea. There is no better idea."

Clint stares at him. Richard wonders what he sees.

"You have a family," Clint says. "You have a son."

"I do."

"I shouldn't have come," Clint says.

"Stop saying things like that," Richard says. "Clint, you know it wasn't my choice to leave, don't you? When I woke up my identity had already been burned. I tried to contact SHIELD and Fury-"

"Fucking bastard."

"Fury told me there was nothing he could do. His hands were tied." Richard closes his eyes, feeling the familiar pain of a headache blooming behind his eyes. "Fury depended on me too much; the WSC has been wanting to get rid of me for years."

"You're telling me there's no way you could have gotten in contact?" Clint scoffs.

"I just said-"

"Not with SHIELD," Clint says, "with me."

"The Avengers aren't exactly listed in the phone book," Richard says.

"And you couldn't have just showed up at the tower? You don't think JARVIS would have let you in?"

Richard licks his lips and tries to choose his words carefully. "I didn't know if I would have been allowed to get that far."

Clint frowns. "The WSC?"

Richard shrugs. "I wouldn't have had any backup, and if I went missing I didn't know how soon it would be before someone noticed. I figured that if I played by their rules I'd have a better chance. So I came back here and hoped that, eventually, one of you would come looking for answers."

"Fury said you'd retired. He said that after coming so close to being killed, you didn't want to have to deal with us anymore."

Richard thinks he's going to have to have some words with Nick Fury. But first he's going to have to get that horrible expression off of Clint's face. 

"Fury lies," he says. "A lot. He's turned it into an art form."

Clint's hangdog look melts into a quick grin. It fades, fast, but it was there, and that's what counts.

"I'm surprised he admitted that I was still alive," Richard says. 

"Well, we didn't give him a choice," Clint says. "Loki claimed that when he stabbed you, he knew it wasn't a mortal wound. And Thor gets kind of tetchy when Loki's statements are called into question. Which is ridiculous when you consider the guy's nicknames, but what are you gonna do?"

"I..." Richard blinks. "I don't know how to process that. Loki is-"

"In therapy," Clint says. "Thor insisted that Odin tack that onto Loki's punishment." Clint looks pained. "I don't even know, man. Thor's nuts over Dr. Phil, and he makes Tony TiVo reruns of Oprah." 

"You just made that up."

"I couldn't if I tried." Clint sighs. "I'm scheduled to go to Asgard in two weeks so Loki can _make amends_. Fuck if I know what that means."

"On the plus side, you'll be going to another planet."

"Yeah, and on the minus side, I'm pretty sure, from Thor's descriptions, that Asgardian food is gonna make me barf. I've already started taking antacids."

"Poor thing." Richard risks letting go of the jacket, but he stays close, ready to grab on again if need be. "Come home with me."

Clint shakes his head and smiles ruefully. "If you knew how long I've wanted to hear those words..."

"I know I should have said them years ago," Richard says. "Trust me, I have had a pretty harsh crash course in hindsight. But I'm saying them now. Come home with me."

"Phil... What about the WSC?"

"They may have Fury on a leash, but they don't own the Avengers," Phil says. "I'll be safe as long as I'm with you."

Clint cocks his head and gives Richard a wry look. "You said that just to push my buttons, didn't you?"

Richard puts on his blandest Coulson expression. Clint responds with a wide smile, which, like the last one, disappears too fast. 

"Phil, what about your wife-"

"Ex," Richard says, swiftly correcting him.

"I'm pretty sure your kid is still current, though."

Richard has already thought of this - he's spent far too many lonely nights plotting how to get his life back. "I'm going to tell them," he says. "All of it. Richie's old enough now, he can handle it. Matthew might not be able to, but hopefully he'll be too busy keeping Christine corralled to dwell on it. I'm looking forward to seeing what kind of expression Barb's going to make. I'm also looking forward to introducing Christine to Fury." Richard grins. "That's going to be _hilarious_."

Clint looks at him funny. "What are you doing with your face?"

"I'm smiling." 

"Cut it out," Clint says. "It looks weird."

"Richard smiles."

Clint frowns. "And that's who you are now?" 

"Is that a problem?" Richard knows how complicated this might get, and he has no qualms with bringing Phil Coulson back from the dead if that would get Clint to agree to stay with him.

"Depends," Clint says, letting one hand rest gently against Richard's stomach. "how does he feel about slightly worn archers?"

Richard reaches for Clint again, but this time he lets his hands slide under the jacket. Clint's tee shirt is warm and soft, and the flesh it's covering is firm.

"Surprisingly enough, both Richard and Phil have matching opinions on that subject." He moves closer to Clint.

Clint's eyes flit to the side for a moment, then they come back to Richard. "Your family's watching."

"Hmm. Might as well give them something to see." Richard leans in, clearly telegraphing his moves so Clint's not surprised by anything. The kiss isn't perfect, by any means - there's still too much baggage between them for proper passion at the moment - but hearing Christine squawk in the background totally makes up for it.

Clint pulls back slightly and licks his lips. "I think I'm going to enjoy getting to know you, Richard."

"Yeah," Richard says, "I'm awesome."

_____________

 

_And they went on to form the West Coast Avengers and live happily ever after._

 

end


	2. The Not So New Adventures of the Old Phil Coulson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can true love stand up to the test of an insane extended family?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Not betad, grammarians beware. Some mentions of homophobia.
> 
> So, I watched more TNAoOC, and I just couldn't help myself, I had to revisit Clint and Richard. This installment is pretty much angst-free, but it's very heavy on the crack.

"Oh. My. God!" 

Christine's voice cuts through Richard's brief moment of contentment. He closes his eyes and rests his head against Clint's shoulder. Clint's broad shoulder. Clint's very broad... What was he-

"Richard?!"

Oh, right. Christine.

"Gird your loins," Richard whispers in Clint's ear as he raises his head. Clint shudders.

"So you're gay now?" Christine asks loudly, despite Matthew's attempts to shush her. "When the hell did you go gay?" She gasps and puts a hand up to her chest. "Did _I_ turn you gay? No. Wait. Did New Christine turn you gay? New Christine totally turned you gay, didn't she?"

"Christine," Mathew says, "sexuality doesn't work that way. But, if it did, he would have definitely turned gay after you. Definitely."

Richard sighs and starts to, unfortunately, untangle himself from Clint, when he spies a lone figure standing just behind Matthew and Christine. "Richie?"

Christine and Matthew both spin around. 

"Richie, honey, why did you leave the game?" Christine asks.

Richie doesn't respond. He doesn't even blink. He just stares at Richard and Clint. This is probably not good.

"Richie?" Christine tries again. "Richie?" She snaps her fingers in front of his face. "Richie?!"

There's still no response. 

Richard winces and takes a few steps forward. "Maybe we should-"

"Maybe you should shut up!" Christine says. "Do you see what you've done? Do you?! Your stupid, big, gay kiss has broken our only child."

Richard rolls his eyes. "Christine, he's not-"

"Richie," Christine coos, "talk to me, baby. Please."

Richie cocks his curly head to one side. He raises one arm and points at a startled Clint. 

"CAW!"

Clint blanches and takes a step backwards. Richard, fearing a runner, stumbles towards him and grabs onto his jacket again.

"What the hell?" Christine says.

Matthew's head swivels between Clint and Richie.

"Caw," Richie says again. "Caw, CAW!"

"Dear lord," Clint mutters, "he's one of them."

"One of who?" Richard asks, a multitude of horrific possibilities already running through his mind.

"He's a Hawkhead," Clint says, swallowing heavily. "It's this thing. This internet thing. I don't know, Darcy tried explaining it to me, but I got lost after the first few sentences. She said something about means, and gifts, and tumblers, and..." Clint looks horribly lost. "Phil, I have _fans_."

Richard can't help but grin, both at Clint looking adorably flustered and at his son's obvious good taste. "Wait," he says. "Why 'caw'? You're not called Croweye."

"I don't know!" Clint says again. "See, that's why we need you back. Sitwell's okay, but you would have nipped all that social media crap right in the bud. You just, you don't know, Phil." Clint's wringing his hands together. "Some of the things I've seen... The things people do to my action figures. The things people make Steve's action figure do to my action figure. And don't get me started on Nat's. It's _wrong_ , Phil It's just _wrong_."

"What the hell is going on here?!" Christine says, her voice getting perilously close to shrieking territory. "What's wrong with Richie? And why is he calling you Phil? And why would he have an action figure? And why is... Matthew?"

Matthew's wide eyes are fixed on Clint. "Caw," he says softly.

Clint lets out a little strangled noise and deftly positions himself behind Richard. 

Richard can't help but feel a little proud that Clint wants his protection - or to use him as a human shield, whatever. "Okay," he says, "I didn't plan on doing this in a public park, but, what the hell. Christine, Matthew, Richie, I've been leading a double life."

"Holy crap!" Christine says. "Were you cruising men while we were married?!" She stares off into the distance. "We could have had a threesome."

"You really married her?" Clint asks, his mouth close to Richard's ear.

"I was young. Shut up." Richard shakes his head and resists the urge to jangle his keys to get Christine's attention. "I didn't mean that kind of a double life," he says. "I mean that I'm not really a contractor."

"Oh, thank God, because you were a crappy contractor!"

"Christine!"

"What?"

"I was a damn good contractor."

"You just said you _weren't_ a contractor."

"I was a damn good pretend contractor."

"Oh, please-"

"Guys!" Matthew says loudly. "Can you two _not_ , right now?"

"I'll second that," Clint says.

"Caw," Richie says, nodding.

"Richard, just tell us how the hell you know Hawkeye," Matthew says.

"Hawkeye? I thought his name was Aaron." Christine grimaces. "So, were your parents hippies or M.A.S.H. fans?"

"You know," Clint says, "you guys obviously have stuff you need to talk about, and I would probably just get in the way, so I'm just gonna go somewhere that's not here."

Before Richard has a chance to grab onto Clint's jacket once again, or fall to his knees and beg the younger man to ignore the crazy and stay with him anyway, a blur rushes past him.

Clint lets out a grunt as Richie latches onto his torso like a curly-headed barnacle. He rests his chin on Clint's sternum and looks up at him. "You kissed my dad."

Clint, holding his arms out away from his body, looks down at Richie in something close to, but not quite, horror. "Uh. Yeah."

Richie sighs happily. "Can I call you papa?"

Clint looks vaguely nauseous.

"Richie," Richard says, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "We haven't even been on our first date yet." He pulls at Richie, trying to get him to disengage. "Why don't you wait until... Wow, you're really on there, aren't you?"

"Phil," Clint says softly. "Help."

Richie sighs, closes his eyes, and snuggles in closer. "My very own Avenger," he murmurs.

After another couple of tugs at Richie's shoulders, Richard stands back and surveys the situation. "He'll get hungry or bored eventually," he says to Clint. "You'll be fine."

"Phil!" 

"I am so confused," Christine says.

"How come Richie gets to hug the Avenger?!" Matthew asks, stomping his foot. "I want to hug the Avenger."

"Nobody else is hugging the Avenger." Clint says firmly. 

Richard clears his throat.

"Except maybe you," Clint says. "Maybe. I'm re-evaluating the whole unrequited love thing." Clint wheezes and places a hand on Richie's head. "I'm joking," he says. "I still love your dad. Ease up on the ribs, okay, kid?"

Richard beams. Clint loves him. And Richie seems to have finally developed upper body strength. This day is just full of good things.

"If I can't hug you, can I smell your hair?" Matthew asks.

"Can you.. No!"

"The only one who's going to be smelling Clint's hair or hugging him, after we pry Richie off, is me," Richard says in his best authoritative voice, and, after years as Phil Coulson, Richard has a pretty awesome authoritative voice.

"I thought his name is Hawkeye?" Christine says. "Seriously, guys, I'm really confused."

"Confused?" Clint says. "You people are nuts."

"I've been saying that for years," Barb says, walking up to their little group. She's weighed down like a pack mule with two lawn chairs under each arm, a cooler in each hand, and Christine's purse around her neck. She drops everything with a grunt, and then she shakes out her arms and shoulders. 

"The next time you dumbasses run off and leave your stuff behind," Barb says, "I'm taking what I want first, then leaving the rest for the other soccer parents to scavenge over, got it?" She cracks her neck. "Now, will someone tell me why Richie is molesting a superhero?"

Christine gasps. "Hawkeye's a... Oh. _Ohhhhhh_. He's _that_ Hawkeye. Okay, I've got it now." She grins at Clint. "You're totally Richie's favorite."

Clint stares at her. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed."

Christine turns her attention to Richard. "Wait, why were _you_ molesting a superhero? How do you even know a superhero?"

Richard sighs. Some days he really missed dealing with terrorists, and aliens, and egomaniacal billionaires.

"I used to work for a secret government agency," he says. "I was Clint's handler."

Christine snorts. Matthew giggles. Barb rolls her eyes.

"Oh, for... Not _that_ kind of handler," Richard says. "We worked together. We kept people safe. We fought bad guys, and saved the world. But during the invasion in Manhattan I was... I was hurt, and-"

"Wait," Matthew says, "that gaping chest wound you had wasn't caused by an unfortunate forklift accident at Home Depot?"

"No," Richard says. "It wasn't."

Christine frowns. "That probably explains why the lawsuit I tried to file went nowhere."

"After I was hurt," Richard says, "I was forcibly retired and sent back here to live here full time."

"What, as some kind of punishment?" Matthew asks.

"I've often wondered," Richard says. "Anyway, Clint found me, and we're both hot for each other, so we're going to try and make a go of it." Richard glances over his shoulder. "Right?"

"Uh, sure. Okay. Why the hell not?" Clint says with a shrug.

"Papa," Richie says happily.

"Seriously, Phil, get him off me."

Richard clears his throat and mentally dusts off his inner Coulson. "Richie, let go of the nice Avenger. Now."

Richie gives Clint one last squeeze, then reluctantly steps away. Clint rubs at his abdomen, then tentatively reaches out and pats Richie on the head.

"Good. Boy." Clint grimaces.

Richie beams.

"Hey," Clint says, "maybe after your dad and I have gone out a while, and you've learned how to chill, I can teach you some archery stuff, huh?"

"NO!"

Clint takes a few startled steps backward as the in unison, terror-tinged shout from Richard, Christine, Matthew, and Barb hits him.

Richard smiles nervously and puts a hand high on Clint's shoulder, leading him back to the group again. "Richie's not very good with things that require depth perception. Or things that are pointy. Or things."

"Oh," Clint says. "Okay."

Richard can tell Clint's feeling unsettled by all the insanity he's surrounded by. "Hey," he says, cupping Clint's cheek, "I know all of this seems weird and strange, and you're probably kind of freaked out right now-"

"Kind of?" Clint says with a weak little chuckle.

"Stick with me," Richard says. He reaches up and lets his other hand rest on Clint's neck, his fingers just barely brushing against the thick hair behind Clint's ear. "I know this isn't - _I'm_ \- not what you were expecting. And, while I may not be 100% Phil Coulson, I can promise that my feelings towards you transcend any identity I might put on."

Clint's mouth twists into his signature crooked grin. "That was a pretty Phil thing to say."

"I have my moments." Richard leans in, caught by the colors in Clint's eyes, then by the lashes that flutter over them as Clint tilts his head ever so slightly. Richard sees that as the invitation it so clearly is, and he moves in, only to be stopped by a loud, gagging noise.

"Richie!" Richard says.

"It wasn't me," Richie says. He points at Christine. "It was her."

"Christine!"

"What?" Christine says. "Like I'm just gonna stand here and watch you make out with your young, stupidly hot, new boyfriend. Please."

"For the record," Barb says, "I was totally okay with it."

"I felt conflicted," Matthew says. "Because, you know, Hawkeye, wow! But, Richard, ewww."

"Thank you all for sharing," Richard says. "I appreciate it."

Christine waves him off. "Whatever, buddy-boy, _you_ owe me waaaay more of an explanation. I want more than _oh, I used to work for a secret government agency_." Christine pauses for a moment. "I also want pie. Or, no, wait... Waffles!"

"IHOP?" Matthew asks.

"Perfect!" Christine points at Clint. "If anyone asks, it's your birthday. Let's go!"

Richard watches as Christine stalks off across the park towards the parking lot.

"Why is it my birthday?" Clint asks.

"Free food."

Clint looks at Richard, then to Christine, then back to Richard. He raises an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"I was young. Shut up."

Clint grins.

Richard knows that things aren't going to be smooth sailing - he's going to have to deal with Fury, and he's sure the WSC will probably rear their heads at some point - but right now, all he can see are the crinkles Clint gets around his eyes when he's really happy. 

And all he can hear is Christine leaning on the horn in her car.

"Dammit," Richard mutters.

Clint wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. "You were young, huh?

"So very, very young," Richard says. "And kind of stupid. Also, shut up."

Clint laughs, then - disregarding Richie and Matthew's googly eyes, and Barb getting out her camera phone, and Christine's car horn bleating in the distance - leans in to brush his lips against Richard's. 

"Yes, sir." Clint says softly.

"God, I can't wait to get you into bed," Richard says.

"Easy, tiger," Clint says, putting one hand against Richard's chest - the right side - and lightly pushing at him. "Waffles first. It's my birthday." He winks and goes to help Matthew and Richie with the lawn chairs and coolers.

"Well," Barb says, sidling up next to Richard, "you're not young, but I still think you're kind of stupid."

"Thanks, Barb."

"Then again," she adds as Clint bends over to pick up one of the chairs, "an ass like that would make anyone lose IQ points."

Clint straightens up and Richard blinks a few times. "Huh?"

Barb smiles wanly. "Never mind. You helped save the world, huh?"

"More or less," Richard says.

"That's utterly terrifying."

"You don't know the half of it," Richard says. "So, waffles?"

"Yeah. Waffles."

_____________

 

 _And they ate waffles, and some other stuff happened, and_ **then** _they went on to form the West Coast Avengers and live happily ever after._


End file.
